


Time Is a Joke and I'm the Punchline

by userofthesky



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira Kurusu is tired, Akira Kurusu needs sleep, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Kamoshida is an asshole, Let Sakamoto Ryuji Say Fuck, Multi, New Game Plus, Nightmares, Persona 5 Spoilers, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shido is an asshole, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:15:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24936655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/userofthesky/pseuds/userofthesky
Summary: Akira didn’t want to go back home. He had come to love Tokyo, and cared especially for the people within her city limits. Even so, he knew that this day would come, when his probation would be over and he would be permitted to return to his hometown. What he wanted didn’t matter. It never had. He wanted to stay.But one must be careful about what they wish for.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji, Suzui Shiho/Takamaki Ann
Comments: 12
Kudos: 146





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Tags will be added as this story progresses :)

As he sits in the old van his friends had commandeered for the weekend, surrounded by them all in various stages of sleep, Akira can’t help but reflect over the past year, and all that had led to this moment. It was almost surreal, the way he was banished from his hometown and all but disowned by his parents, expecting to just keep his head down for the next year, only to find himself in the middle of another world, fighting the evil of society and changing hearts.

He looks over to Ryuji, fast asleep on his shoulder, and finds himself pulled into memories of the past year, all seeming to originate with the blond firecracker. Branded a delinquent in the same way he was branded a criminal, Ryuji had barged into his life with the eloquence of a bull in a china shop, and had made his home there. Akira didn’t know what he would do without him.

Then everyone else who joined along the way, a team coming together to unite against the evils of the world and find comfort and support with each other in their efforts to break out of the molds society had forced upon them. Ann, Yusuke, Makoto, Futaba, Haru, even Morgana - all had become more like family to him than his biological family could ever hope to be.

He didn’t want to leave them.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

**A new contract has been sealed. The world is still not as it should be, and “ruin” still looms on the horizon. The Trickster’s time is not over.**

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_You continue to be held captive to a future you cannot escape. The unjust game continues, and your chances of winning decline with every attempt. However, if you still hear me, there is still hope. The key to victory lies within the memories of your bonds - for the sake of the world’s future and your own...you must remember..._

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Akira could hear shouting in the distance. A man yelling at a woman who didn’t seem too keen to comply with whatever he wanted. A scene that felt all too familiar, but not quite real, pulling at a memory that he couldn’t quite access at the moment. He had been here before, hadn’t he?

As if on instinct, he began walking forward, memory and instinct guiding him towards the sound, until he could see exactly what was making the commotion. Soon enough, two figures were visible in the distance, and Akira felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head as the man turned his head, revealing himself to be the one man who had started everything - Masayoshi Shido.

This had to be a dream. There was no way he was back here, where it all began - he was still asleep in the van, surrounded by people he would proudly call his family - right? So if he just went through the motions, it would eventually end and he would be right back where he was meant to be.

So with that in mind, Akira takes all his bottled up rage at the man for all the pain he had put Akira’s friends through, winds up, and slams his fist into the man’s face.

It wasn’t until he was being thrown into a holding cell, the metal door slamming in his face, that Akira realized - it wasn’t a dream.

His journey had begun, once more.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

It had been two weeks of staring at blank walls and ceilings, and keeping his head down to avoid the wrath of the guards, and the only thing Akira could think about was how much he missed his friends, and if they would even recognize him when he inevitably got to Tokyo. Would they have memories of the past year? Would they even recognize who they had fought alongside to defeat a false god?

\-------------------------------------------------------------

They didn’t recognize him.

Sojiro, cold and indifferent. Ann, only giving him a blank look and the awkward smile you give a stranger before getting into Kamoshida’s car. Makoto and Haru not even sparing him a glance, unless it was to watch him out of the corner of their eyes like he might attack them if they weren’t vigilant. Futaba was likely locked away in her room, and Yusuke similarly holed up in Madarame’s shack.

And Ryuji. Oh, god, Ryuji. He had looked at him with such confusion, scowling at Akira instinctively acting far too familiar with him, before cussing him out and running off.

Akira didn’t go to the Palace that day. He arrived at school on time and kept his head down, feeling sick to his stomach as his mind reeled, unable to focus as the reality that he was the only one conscious of time repeating settled.

It left an awful taste in his mouth.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

When he arrived in the Velvet Room for the first time, Akira felt his throat close up momentarily as he stared down the false god he had believed dead. However, when he looked at Caroline and Justine, halves of Lavenza who had forgotten their true origin, his horror and all the emotions at seeing the lack of recognition on all his confidants’ faces turned into fury.

And listening to the false god speak from that shell of a costume only fanned the flames.

“Trickster, do you have the resolve to challenge the distortion of the world?”

A huff escapes Akira’s lips before he can stop it. But once it’s out, it is quickly followed by more until he is bent over in his cell, wheezing through uncontrollable laughter.

“Inmate!” A baton slams against the bars of his cage. “How dare you show such disrespect!”

Akira gives one final wheeze as he stands back up, staring down the copy sitting across the room. “I would think it’s more disrespectful to steal someone’s form. Wouldn’t you think so as well, Yaldabaoth?”

The look of pure, unadulterated rage on the false god’s face was the last thing Akira saw before he once again found himself standing in the backstreets of his hometown.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Akira stared down Shido’s shadow, only Arsene at his back. He couldn’t feel his legs, and wasn’t sure his arm was still there.

As the man charged up another attack, Akira only had one thought before it slammed him out of existence -

He should’ve known trying to take Shido on alone would be a suicide mission.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

As he was cleaning the attic space that would continue to be his home for what seemed to be the tenth “first” time, Akira came across a ramen bowl that Ryuji wasn’t supposed to give them until the two of them went to a ramen shop after defeating Kamoshida.

He gave a small huff as he put it in its proper place. Apparently objects followed him in the loop. With that thought, he resolved to buy a notebook the next time he was in town.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Around his thirtieth loop and repeated attempts to explain his situation only to be met with ridicule - and threats of a mental hospital at one point or another - Akira stopped speaking.

It simply wasn’t worth the effort.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Akira was running out of ideas on how to escape the loop. From his best guess, he was around forty in. He had tried defeating the palaces alone, bringing along only specific team members while ensuring others wouldn’t awaken to their personas, even flat out neglecting to try and steal any treasures.

He was musing over potential plans as he maintained the counter at LeBlanc when Akechi walked in, asking for a cup of coffee.

And Akira was struck with an idea he would pursue for the next decade of loops but would regret for the rest of his life.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Akira couldn’t breathe. All he could do was stare at his hands coated in blood, his damn gun and knife on the floor in the peripherals of his vision. Oh god. What had he done what had he done what had he done whathadhe-

“Huh. Didn’t think you’d actually be able to follow through on killing them, all your precious friends.. Nice work, Trickster. You’ve done well. But now you’ve served your purpose, and are of no more use.”

All Akira could do was turn and find himself momentarily staring down the barrel of a gun before everything went dark.

Never before had he believed he deserved a death more than that one. It was only a shame he hadn’t suffered more. He would’ve deserved it.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Akira knew, he knew, as he stared down the Diet Building, that attempting Shido’s palace alone was a suicide mission. However, the last time he had done it, he hadn’t worked on making himself stronger before barging right in. This time, he had defeated Kamoshida and saved Futaba by himself. He could do this.

When he starts navigation on the Meta-Nav, he doesn’t realize he’s dragged someone in alongside him until he hears a cry of shock behind him.

He only spares a moment to take in the messy brown hair, the kind face, the shy demeanor, the tan jacket, and all the other small details about this seemingly unimportant man before he pushes him back, back out of the metaverse.

Akira wasn’t going to drag more innocents into his mess.

It’s not like he survived much longer after that, anyway.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“I was wondering what kind of unruly kid would show up, but you’re the one, huh?”

Akira gave a brief nod. Same old, same old.

“Not much of a talker, huh? They sent me your file so I would recognize you when you showed up. Don’t remember your photo having freckles, though. Anyway -”

Freckles? Akira didn’t have freckles. He followed Sojiro upstairs, not paying attention to a conversation he had heard dozens of times, wondering what Sojiro meant by freckles.

He spent at least twenty minutes in the bathroom that night looking at his face in the mirror, examining the freckles he hadn’t noticed appearing. Desperate for some meaning or rhyme or reason, he tried counting them.

The next ten minutes were spent spitting into the toilet after he realized the number of freckles matched the number of loops he had lived, and subsequently died, in.

\------------------------------------------------------------

He began to notice the scars next. Marks, littering his body from major injuries he had suffered over the years. Major scarring across his ribs, a faint one across his jugular, and a handful more across his arms and legs, including one that surrounded his thigh from a loop where an injury had caused him to lose his leg, and he had survived two more palaces with the loss of a limb.

Sometimes he woke up feeling like he still didn’t have that leg. It didn’t feel real anyways.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Akira watched as Yaldabaoth unholstered a massive gun, metal joints moving until it was facing its target, leaving Ryuji to stare down its barrel.

Akira could do nothing but scream as he watched Ryuji fall from the battleground.

No one survived that fight. No one ever had since the original loop.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Akira stumbled as he found himself back in his hometown once more, slamming into the wall and sliding down with a choked sob.

It didn’t matter how many times he saw his friends die. It never got easier to witness.

But this time would be the last.

A scowl found its way onto his face, pulling at faint scars, and he furiously wiped away the building tears as he got back on his feet and began walking towards where he knew Shido would be.

He refused to be a plaything of Yaldabaoth’s amusement anymore. This time, everyone would live. No one he cared about would be left to suffer.

And with that thought, he drew his fist back, and slammed it into that fucker Masayoshi Shido’s face with all the strength he could muster.


	2. Take Me Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---------------  
> Take me home where the restless go  
> Reckless to the day I rest my bones  
> There's no use trying to save my soul  
> There's no use trying to save my soul  
> \--------------
> 
> Take Me Home  
> Hollywood Undead

The first time Akira had ridden the bullet train into Tokyo, it had freaked him out. After all, he had gone from a rural town where public transportation was mainly buses, and never really got that crowded, to a packed train car hurtling at speeds he had never really experienced before. It had been quite the shock to his system, and he vaguely remembered needing to sit down on a bench when he had arrived in Yongen-Jaya, savoring the stillness of the ground beneath his feet.

Now, however, Inaba was a hazy memory, and the trains of Tokyo were an easy habit, and he barely noticed the difference between standing in a packed train or standing on central street. And with being used to the speed and the environment came the ability to relax and think as the train carried him to his destination.

This time, he found himself zoning out as he watched the scenery pass, finding himself both hating how many people were in the train car but also relishing in being surrounded by humanity after being in solitary confinement in the juvenile detention facility for the past month or so. Even still, he let his mind drift to the upcoming year, trying to start piecing together a plan for the upcoming year, even though he knew he would need to look at his notes from previous years to figure out the best strategy.

Even so, he let his mind wander to all the people he would have to build relationships with again, with him knowing nearly everything about them while he remained a complete stranger to them. He could tell himself he was used to it all he wanted, but the hostility in Ryuji’s eyes when they meet for the first time always hit him, even when he expected it. However, he could bear a few moments of brashness with the knowledge that once again the two would grow close, and Akira would once more have his right hand man watching his back.

With that final thought, he leans his head back and closes his eyes, thinking back on his favorite memories, the good things he had to hold on to, until his train arrived at his station.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking into Tokyo, Akira was ready for the moment that the Meta-Nav would appear on his phone, and observed as the world around him slowed until everyone was frozen in a single moment.

He took a breath, and looked to where he knew Arsene would appear in a burst of blazing blue flames, and found himself relishing in the rush that always hit him in that moment, the realization of the power he possessed that he just hadn’t tapped into yet. He welcomed the will of rebellion like an old friend, and felt his soul finally settle into his body as time resumed itself, the crowded streets of Tokyo around him coming back to life.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arriving at LeBlanc a little earlier than he meant to gave Akira time to think a little more, and brace himself for Sojiro’s initial brashness that always seemed to welcome him to Tokyo. He understood Sojiro’s position, but having learned how to make coffee and curry from the man and having him become something of a father figure, it always hurt a bit. So he hung out in a nearby alleyway for a bit first, petting one of the stray cats that had come up to him in the hope of some food.

He couldn’t help but snort at a memory of Morgana protesting Akira petting him until he eventually caved and admitted to how nice it felt. Akira had always made it a point to occasionally scratch Morgana’s head, a simple way of bonding that occasionally led to an amusing rant or two. He had never admitted it, but petting Morgana had also always been a good way to ground himself in reality, giving him something to focus on when his mind raced out of control.

Soon enough, however, after the small tabby cat had wandered off in search of food, Akira found himself pushing open the door to LeBlanc. The smell of brewing coffee and the underlying spices of Sojiro’s signature curry almost seemed to welcome him to something he could call home.

He finds himself looking upon a familiar scene, with an elderly couple discussing recent events as Sojiro worked on a crossword puzzle, pretending not to listen. A classic tactic that always allowed him to listen intently to customer conversation with a clear exit that allowed him plausible deniability.

After another moment, Akira stepped forward, holding out a piece of paper to Sojiro, both introducing himself and asking to confirm that he was the man he was looking for. After all, to Sojiro’s knowledge, Akira had never seen or heard of this man in his life. So the man looked over the paper as the elderly couple left, grumbling under his breath about four hours for a single coffee before looking back at Akira.

“So you’re Kurusu? I was wondering what unruly kid they were sending me, but you’re it, huh? Anyway, you’ll be alone at night, but don’t think of doing anything stupid or trying to steal from the shop. I won’t hesitate to throw you out. Follow me.”

They head up the stairs, and Akira can feel the exhaustion he knows is coming in his bones as his eyes fall upon the mess that constitutes where he is meant to live. Sojiro is talking about Akira’s situation, a lecture he could probably repeat verbatim, though all he does is give the appropriate responses of head nods to acknowledge words.

Then Shujin and being introduced tomorrow by Sojiro is mentioned, and Akira resists the urge to groan, always hating that meeting with everything he had. Between an obnoxious principal only looking out for himself and a Kawakami who hadn’t learned to stand her own ground and be the teacher she wanted to be, the meeting only spelled out a massive headache for Akira.

However, he just had to take things one step at a time. Sojiro finished his lecture and returned to his cafe, leaving Akira to sort out in his own life in the dusty attic. 

_ Well, we’ve done this before. One more time I guess, for good luck. _

And with that thought, he changed into more comfortable clothes before losing himself in the routine of cleaning, the process of getting rid of dust and creating a living space almost therapeutic in their predictability. He found himself lamenting the loss of the muscle he had previously built up fighting in palaces as he moved boxes and various abandoned appliances.

As he cleaned, he came across little trinkets he had collected over the years, small toys and plushies he had won from claw machines, other odds and ends, and of course, the ramen bowl Ryuji had gifted him. He knew his notebooks were hidden among the books on the shelves next to his bed, but knew that those could wait a bit. For now, he places the ramen bowl next to the TV he had unearthed, ensuring its safety until it could resume its rightful place on the shelf.

With one final glance around at the mostly cleared floor and the lack of heavy dust in the air, Akira decided he was satisfied, and collapsed back onto the mattress on boxes he called a bed. He could feel his bones sink into it, and knew he was in danger of falling asleep in his now dusty day clothes if he didn’t get back up soon.

“Huh. I heard you moving around up here, but I didn’t think you were actually cleaning.”

Akira bolted upright, heart leaping as the voice startled him out of the tired haze he had settled into. He looked to Sojiro and gave a tense nod, the other only giving him a strange look before continuing to speak.

“You’ll be alone in the shop, like I mentioned before, so you’re responsible for making sure you’re getting enough rest and all that. I won’t be the one looking after you if you get sick from staying up too late, you got that?” A pause, and Akira could swear an almost concerned look flickered over Sojiro’s face, but it was gone before he could pin it down. “I’ll be back in the morning to take you to Shujin. The shop’s locked up, so don’t head out since you don’t have a key and I better not find out that you messed around in my shop.”

As Sojiro headed back downstairs, his footsteps almost seeming heavier and more pronounced than they had before, Akira let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding. He shifted, leaning over to place his head in his hands so he could ride out the panic still raging in his chest.

_ God _ , he really needed to stop being so jumpy. He was safe. This was LeBlanc, the door was locked, and currently Sojiro was the only person with a key. No one in Tokyo outside of Sojiro knew who he was or that he even existed. He wasn’t in danger.

...But Sojiro didn’t care about him. Yet, he hoped. After all, even though he was brash and put up a callous facade, all Akira could do was think of his past interactions with Sojiro, of events that hadn’t yet come to be. The times Sojiro brushed his hair out of his face as Takemi tended to his wounds from the interrogation room, but also the times where he hadn’t been there because Akira hadn’t let him.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

_ There were still drugs circling his system, and he wasn’t sure what was going on. Everything felt fuzzy, and painful, and there were hands touching him, pressing at his injuries. He tried to speak, to tell them to stop, but the only noise he could make was a pained whimper. Immediately, a calloused hand was brushing his hair off his forehead, accompanied by a voice he could only register as  _ safe _. _

_ “It’s ok kid, just need you to stay calm. You’ll be alright. Dr. Takemi is taking care of your wounds, you’re doing so well.” _

_ Akira could feel himself relaxing in response, knowing Sojiro would take care of him. _

_ That Sojiro would keep him safe. _

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ Akira bit back a cry as he pressed gauze down on a deep cut in his leg, not wanting to alert anyone to his location. He knew the police were looking for him. Why wouldn’t they? He was a kid on probation who hadn’t shown up to meet his caretaker, and was now labelled as a missing person. _

_ He knew it wasn’t a good idea, he knew it wasn’t from the moment he decided to do it. But he couldn’t take seeing Sojiro looking down at him with disdain, couldn’t bear the thought of the man warming up to him once more only for it to all disappear again. He didn’t want to drag people into his problems. He could make it on his own, right? _

_ Another strangled noise escaped his throat as his leg continued to bleed, despite his best efforts. He could feel himself starting to drift, becoming light-headed. _

_ Well, at least no one would miss him this time around. _

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Akira abruptly stood up, trying to shake off the memories. He needed to focus on the present, on finally making everything right and saving everyone.

...He needed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!  
> If things keep going well, I'm looking at updating every Saturday with a new chapter!  
> Thanks for reading!!


	3. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I created a monster, a hell within my head  
> Nowhere to go, I'm out on my own  
> Oh I'm so scared  
> I created a monster, a beast inside my brain  
> Nowhere to go, I'm not on my own  
> My mind impaired to wake me from my nightmare
> 
> \--------------
> 
> Nightmare, Set It Off

The knowledge that he would end up in the Velvet Room his first night in LeBlanc every single time never did much to prepare Akira for it. It did nothing for him as he jolted awake in the metaverse, awoken by Caroline slamming her baton on the bars of his cell, the blue walls pressing in and suffocating him. He always took a minute to get his bearings whenever he woke up in the Velvet Room, no matter where he was in the timeline, much to the annoyance of Caroline and Justine.

“Get up, prisoner! Show some respect to our master.”

Ah, and there Caroline was, right on cue, Akira flinching as she slammed her baton again.

“You are quite rude, prisoner. It would do you well to be a model prisoner if you hope to achieve rehabilitation.”

_Ah, fine, fine, girls. Only for you, though._

Akira sat up with a groan, biting back more noises of discomfort as his numerous injuries made themselves known. He had noticed, a few loops in, that the injuries he gained that had left scars on his body tended to be fairly noticeable the next loop in the Velvet Room. That is, he found himself with open, sluggishly bleeding wounds that never seemed to heal. Then he had lost his leg that one time, and, well, standing in the Velvet Room had only become that much harder.

However, he refused to show weakness in front of his captor, and expertly maneuvered himself to sit at the entrance of his cell, staring down the creature in front of him with a steely gaze as it began to speak. Time to put on a show.

“Welcome, Trickster, to my Velvet Room. My name is Igor. The two you see in front of you are Caroline and Justine, and they shall be your wardens for your upcoming journey. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. After all, only those bound by a contract may enter.”

Akira knew he couldn’t let the monster catch onto the fact that he knew what was happening. He had made that mistake before, challenged this false Igor, and had paid the heavy price. He simply had to play the part, and so he snarls at it, baring his teeth as he gripped at the bars in front of him

“Let me out, you bastard! I never signed a contract!”

Speaking in the metaverse had always been easier. Arsene at his back, no fear that he would be sent to a mental institution or taken by the police because of anything he might say -

“Know your place, inmate!”

Another slam, another flinch. Ah, but there was the wrath of Caroline and cool disdain of Justine. Right.

A low chuckle drew his attention back to the creature facing him.

“Interesting… This room and your appearance reflects your mind and heart… You truly are a prisoner of fate, and one who has suffered greatly at the hands of it. There is no mistake that ruin awaits you, Trickster.”

“You’re _shitting_ me, I didn’t sign up for this!”

“Ah, but it can be avoided through your rehabilitation.”

“Rehabilitation?”

“Trickster… Do you have the resolve to challenge the distortion of the world?”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Akira woke up with a gasp, bolting up and throwing his sheets to the side. Without thinking, he was already patting down his leg, always needing to confirm that it was still there after each visit to the Velvet Room.

It didn’t take long for it to click in his mind that he was back in reality, and so he allowed himself to break a little in private, pulling his leg in closer to him and holding onto it. Just taking time to keep reassuring himself that it was still there, that he was still...whole. Not the broken shell of a human he often felt like.

He would see Ryuji soon. Ryuji wouldn’t know him, not at first, but the two had always been fast friends in the timelines where Akira didn’t avoid him with everything he had. He would be alright so long as he focused on that. He would see Ryuji soon, and everything in the world would be right once more.

With that settled in his mind, Akira snuck a glance at his phone, wincing at the odd hour of night that it confirmed. He had time to try sleeping again, and had a long day ahead of him. So, knowing at the very least he wouldn’t find himself back in the Velvet Room, Akira rolled over and tried to salvage what sleep he had left.

If only it could’ve been peaceful.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_Akira wheezed, writhing in pain on the floor following another kick to his ribs. Everything hurt, joints stiff and cramped, some bones broken, and bruises littering his body. On top of all that, he was sluggish from the drugs, their effect leaving him struggling to put together a coherent thought as every one of his nerve endings felt like they had been set on fire._

_He blinked up at his abusers, distantly feeling the piece of glass embedded in his cheek from when they had smashed his glasses in his face as he tried to make sense of the blobs in front of him. His sight really wasn’t what it had used to be, and this experience was likely to make it worse._

Joy.

_“What, you think that security camera can be used as evidence?”_

Ah, _they thought he was looking at the security camera. God, he really hoped Futaba hadn’t tapped into the feed this time, he had tried to convince her not to, but man did she get stubborn when it came to her trying to protect the people she loved. She really didn’t need to see this anyway. It was ugly enough._

_God, was this worth it anyway? He knew how this would go. He would die in the end, and then just find himself right back in the streets of Inaba. Briefly see his parents’ disappointment before they practically begged the police to lock him up. Only for him for find his way back to Tokyo, get involved with Phantom Thieves business, and end right back-_

_“Answer me when I ask you a question!”_

Shit. Shit. Shitshitshitshit-

_Akira could only let out a choked cry as the man’s foot slammed into his abdomen again, and it couldn’t tell if the crack he heard was just his imagination or not. If only that were it. Before he could even react, the foot was coming down again, but this time on his right leg, and even if he had tried he wouldn’t have been able to hold back the agonizing scream he leg out as the bones beneath his knee_ snapped _and_ tore _until they felt utterly destroyed and unrecognizable._

_In the back of his mind he could hear the man talking, casually as if he hadn’t just destroyed some kid’s leg, and from vague memories of previous timelines he knew the man was listing off the so called crimes he had committed. However, he still couldn’t really hear him over the whines escaping his own throat, try as he might to stop them. Every breath, every minor shift he made sent white-hot pain racing up his leg and burning through his entire body. Though, he didn’t have much of a choice other than to pay attention once a clipboard was shoved in his face, and he knew what they wanted._

_They wanted him to sign a false confession._ Fuck no.

_In hindsight, he should’ve known the reaction his rebellion would have caused, having been through this whole scenario before. However, through the drugs and mind-numbing pain, his rebellion was all he had to hold on to. And so, he knocks the clipboard away, baring his teeth in the strongest snarl he can muster, even as his forehead drips with sweat and his breath hisses roughly through his teeth._

_“You know, I need your hand to sign this form. But no one said anything about you needing a leg.”_

_That’s the only warning Akira gets before a weight comes down on his already broken leg, though the aim seems to be his knee this time._

_His vision goes white, and he’s blindly reaching for something, either to grab the man’s leg or somehow begging for the clipboard for him to sign, anything to make it stop. There’s a harsh noise cutting through the sharp pain overwhelming his mind, pained and rough. It takes him a moment to realize it’s his own screams._

_\--------------------------------------------------------------_

_Akira isn’t quite sure what had happened between his knee being broken and the current moment. All he knows is that he’s now sitting propped against the wall, hands cuffed in his lap and the thing that could once be called his leg lying mangled in front of him, and Sae is looking down on him. He can’t make out details through his blurry vision, but instinct and the fact he hasn’t been harmed yet, along with memories that have grown more distant by the moment, tell him it is Sae Nijima._

_All he had to do was get her to take the phone. Then he could go home._

_And if she didn’t?_

_Well. At least he would be put out of his misery._

_\--------------------------------------------------------------_

_It had worked. It had worked, but at what cost? Sae dragging Akira out of the holding cell had been some new form of hell, nothing keeping his leg stable as he put far too much weight on it to keep from falling._

_Then there had been the car ride, every bump and jostle tearing another cry of pain or whimper from his already abused throat. Though, by the time they had reached LeBlanc, he couldn’t really feel the pain that much anymore._

_Akira couldn’t really feel his leg either._

_\--------------------------------------------------------------_

_Hands were touching him, and for a moment he started to panic - but then his mind registered the hands that were touching him. They were familiar._

_Smaller, diligent hands, that work with the precision of a natural-born surgeon. The feeling of them is faint under that of latex, but it wasn’t hard to recognize hands that had bandaged his wounds before, taught him how to treat his own should he find himself in a bind. Dr. Takemi, who carried with her the sound of small chains rattling against each other and the faint smell of chemicals. A healer. She could help._

_The other set of hands were larger, and more calloused. These hands didn’t go near his injuries, instead holding tightly onto an uninjured hand or brushing bangs away from a sweaty forehead. They would later help change bandages, and place cool cloths on burning foreheads to cool the heat of infection. The hands that had taught him to properly grind coffee beans, to blend them perfectly in ways to satisfy every customer, no matter how picky they may be. Hands that taught him the secrets to a special curry that few knew how to make. Sojiro, who smelled strongly of coffee and cigarettes, who carried the warmth of a fire, warm and caring behind an indifferent facade. A caretaker. Akira trusted him with his life._

_Akira felt himself slowly beginning to relax with the familiar surroundings he was becoming aware of, but with that came an awareness of the situation he could’ve likely done without._

_“Shit Sojiro, I can’t save this leg. If he wants a chance to survive, I’m going to have to amputate it.”_

_\--------------------------------------------------------------_

_Akira stood on the bow of Shido’s ship, looking out over the wasted landscape that surrounded the Palace. His hands shook, thinking of everything that had led him to this moment, trying desperately to ignore the lingering thought that this was all pointless, and he would end up at the beginning again._

_He didn’t stand a chance without his leg._

_Granted, when he had entered the metaverse, it appeared that he wasn’t exactly hindered by the loss of limb. To the Thieves’ surprise, him most of all, in place of his prosthesis was a column of the blue flame that always burst forth when a persona was summoned. With a bit of experimentation, it was found that the flames worked just as well as his flesh leg had._

_It didn’t matter, though. He would still hesitate in every fight, expecting his false leg to finally give out from underneath him._

_Akira managed to survive Shido without faltering, but when he and his friends went to face Yaldabaoth, the leg finally gave way._

_And Akira found himself failing once more._

_\--------------------------------------------------------------_

Akira was screaming when he woke up, the harsh sound tearing through his throat as he fought to escape the blanket he had tangled himself in, feeling as if he was being suffocated, trapped. He fought against its constraints, pulling and tearing as his scream turned into small whimpers and silent pleas, his mind trapped between reality and the interrogation room of his memories that had become his personal hell.

Eventually, he managed to tear himself out of the blanket’s hold, immediately clutching his right leg and holding it tightly, digging his nails into his calf without thinking. Anything that would make him feel his leg, solidify that it was there, that his memories, while real, were no more than bad dreams in this new timeline. He continued to press his nails in until he knew they were leaving marks, but the feeling of them felt far too distant, like his brain was only making him think his leg was actually there.

Akira cursed when his nails finally drew blood, snapping him out of his blind panic. He fumbled in the dark for tissues he knew were nearby, dabbing at the small wounds he knew would heal up pretty quickly.

Either way, he knew he wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight. Might as well bandage his leg and get dressed for the day. Sojiro would probably give him some weird look for sitting at the counter in the cafe so early in the morning, but he didn’t think he could stand another minute in the attic room.

So, once he was dressed and more or less prepared for the day ahead, Akira grabbed a random book from the pile covering the shelf he hadn’t cleaned yet, and headed downstairs to read it until the sun rose and Sojiro eventually arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh........sorry?  
> (Not sorry it'll get better eventually tho)  
> See y'all soon for more good times :)


	4. Famous Last Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \----------  
> I am not afraid to keep on living  
> I am not afraid to walk this world alone  
> Honey, if you stay  
> I'll be forgiven  
> Nothing you can say can stop me going home  
> \----------
> 
> Famous Last Words, My Chemical Romance

Sojiro did, in fact, give Akira a strange look when he walked into LeBlanc that morning. To be fair, Akira had been sitting at the bar, half slumped, giving the coffee equipment an almost desperate look, as if simply imagining the cup of coffee he wasn’t allowed to make could infuse him with the caffeine rush he so desired.

Akira had been sitting there for roughly two hours, though he had woken up a little over three hours ago. The first hour had been spent pacing around the cafe, the only way he could think of reassuring himself that his leg was still there that didn’t necessitate leaving Leblanc or needing more bandages. Eventually, his leg felt more solid beneath him, and so he resigned himself to reading a book he had grabbed from upstairs to occupy him until it became a reasonable hour.

However, that didn’t matter much now as Sojiro busied himself around the cafe kitchen, and Akira began to catch onto telltale movements of coffee being made. Relief sank into his tired bones as a cup of house blend was placed in front of him, and he gave Sojiro a nod of appreciation before sipping gingerly, reveling in the bitter taste and smell.

As Akira drank his coffee, he could see Sojiro out of the corner of his eye giving him a curious look, looking as if he wanted to say something, to ask why Akira had been sitting at the bar appearing half dead. However, Akira knew Sojiro wouldn’t say anything. It was far too early in the timeline, and Sojiro was still dead set on being a distant caretaker. Despite that, it was nice to know Sojiro cared at the beginning, as hard as he may have tried not to.

“Alright, kid. Once you’ve finished your drink we’re going to head out. I want to be there and get out as quickly as possible so I still have a chance to open up my shop today.”

Akira nodded and drained the rest of his coffee before moving to the sink to wash the cup, driven completely by habit. Sojiro gave him another strange look but decided not to comment, instead moving to wait by the door for Akira to finish, locking up and leading him out to the car once he was done.

The car ride was mostly uneventful, even as Sojiro made a few comments about men not being allowed in his passenger seat and Akira needing to behave himself at Shujin. Akira dutifully nodded his head in response, fingers fidgeting at the thought of the upcoming meeting. He had never been a fan of Shujin’s principal, even before knowing that he had always been in Shido’s pocket and had backed Kamoshida’s numerous sins.

_ Kamoshida cornering Akira, saying he would teach him a lesson he wouldn’t forget- _

_ Akira barging into the principal’s office and telling him about everything Kamoshida was doing and demanding something be done to protect the students, only to be expelled and arrested on the spot for allegedly threatening the man- _

_ Ann crying next to Shiho’s broken body, not knowing if her best friend would ever recover, Akira only able to stare in horror because he simply hadn’t been fast enough- _

_ Ryuji screaming in pain as his other leg was broken for standing up to Kamoshida in defense of another student, Akira unable to do anything but watch in horror and blame himself, it was all his fault allhisfault- _

“Kid, we’re here.”

Sojiro luckily didn’t comment on how Akira startled, his breath catching momentarily as he snapped back into reality, only giving him another side glance before exiting the car. Akira didn’t waste any time in following suit, wanting this meeting to be over with, knowing that he just had to get through this day and then things would start to fall into place as he reunited with his friends.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Akira thought today would only be one of dread, but apparently he could still surprise himself, as he felt anger stir in his gut while listening to the principal. The man just rattled on about how  _ lucky Kurusu was that Shujin was allowing him to attend with his record _ and almost seeming hopeful as he dangled expulsion should Akira make one small misstep. This man, who would happily stand by as his own students were victimized, who sat in the pocket of the man who was striving to take control of Japan.

It took all of his effort to just keep his face neutral, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing how he felt. Akira had learned many timelines ago that keeping his emotions to himself, held tightly to his chest, was the only way to survive.

Even as those emotions ate him alive.

In the end, the meeting passed uneventfully, with Akira barely paying attention to a lecture he had heard dozens upon dozens of times before, simply nodding at the correct times. He was even used to the part where he was told his “disability” wouldn’t be accommodated, given how many timelines it had been since he lost the will to speak.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_ The principal looked down at Akira with his beady eyes, unfazed by Akira’s cool gaze in return. _

_ “Now, as for your- what did they say? You’re mute?” He gave Akira an almost disgusted look. “...It doesn’t matter. Any disrespect to your teachers will not be tolerated, so you will be provided a whiteboard on your first day. You will use it to answer questions in a timely manner. There will be no further accommodations.” _

_ Akira merely nodded, resigned to his fate. He wasn’t actually mute, but once he had found that trying to speak up about the wrongs in the world or about his experience trapped in some sort of time loop never changed anything, speaking had become difficult. No one would listen, so why bother? So he stopped speaking, and somehow the world adapted around him as the timelines progressed, the people around him seemingly convinced that he was mute. _

_ He wasn’t sure where the assumption came from or why they believed it so easily, but it made his life a bit easier, didn’t it? Small mercies in a never ending hell. _

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Once more, Sojiro was unable to open his cafe due to traffic, and so once they had made their way back to Yongen-Jaya, Akira found himself back in the attic of the cafe. Alone, with his thoughts, once more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about when he had first decided to stop talking, after just one too many times of the things he said leading to nothing but tragedy. Revealing too much too early to his fellow Thieves only for them to ignore him - either by running off or setting into motion events that would land him in a holding cell or the psychiatric floor of a hospital, depending on who he spoke to and when. Of course, there were also the times where he spoke to the wrong person, and found himself trapped in Shido’s web, doing the man’s bidding alongside Akechi lest his friends be hurt because of his rebellion.

It just seemed like he couldn’t win anymore. But that didn’t matter to him. He was going to make it work this time, everyone would survive and be  _ happy _ , goddamnit. Akira would save everyone and ensure they had a future if it was the last thing he did.

That just meant he would have to start talking again outside of the metaverse. Talking in the real world, without the comforting presence of Arsene at his side, his will of rebellion nothing more than a concept in the back of his mind. Akira actually didn’t know how long it had been since he had gone silent, simply letting things happen instead of taking action, to wrestle fate back under his own control.

This time, though, he had to. For the sake of his friends, who would deserve explanations for the chaos he would drag them through, and for the adults, namely Sojiro who didn’t deserve to be kept out of the loop. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit for himself. That he might just be able to build a future he would be able to look forward to, no matter how much that scared him. No matter how little Akira may deserve it after everything he had done.

And so with his resolve solidified, Akira walked downstairs to the bathroom, locking the door before bracing his arms on the sink and looking himself in the mirror. He took a moment to observe himself - the messy hair he never bothered to tame even as it fell into his eyes, the thick glasses he relied on to see, the freckles that dusted his cheeks only to remind him of his numerous failures, the scar that crept along his jaw next to his right ear and the faint one that danced over his jugular vein. Akira looked at the person he had become, took a deep breath, and spoke softly in the quiet bathroom for the first time in decades, a promise to the false god that haunted him and the powers of fate that had trapped him for so long.

“I refuse to die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all ready to start getting the Phantom Thieves together?  
> Stay tuned, and I'll see y'all next week :)


	5. Storm Front

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \----------  
> There's a storm front coming  
> White water running and the pressure is low  
> Storm front coming  
> Small craft warning on the radio  
> \--------
> 
> Storm Front, Billy Joel

Rain always brought about mixed feelings for Akira. On one hand, it reminded him of difficult battles in Mementos and the red rain that had come before he and his closest friends disappeared from reality as Mementos merged with the real world. On the other hand, it felt cleansing. As if Akira could just stand in the rain and let it wash away his past, absolve him of his numerous sins.

It always rained on the day everything began, and even though Akira knew it would, he never brought along an umbrella. Half the time it was because it was such a minor detail that he would forget it, but sometimes he appreciated the irony of his two first friends in Tokyo walking into his life every timeline as he took shelter from the rain on his way to Shujin.

And so it was on that rainy morning that he ran into Ann once more for the first time, both taking shelter under a store awning, of the same thought that they might be able to wait out the worst of it. He watched as Ann pulled back her hood to reveal familiar twin pigtails, and offered a nervous smile and wave when she met his gaze. Akira found himself wishing that it wasn’t so hard to speak in reality, wanting to offer an actual greeting or even an introduction, but knowing he would have to let things run their course.

A car horn startles him out of his musings, and he turns at the same time as Ann to the expected sight of Kamoshida. Akira’s insides recoiled as he felt a seething anger swell up, knowing what that man had already done to Ryuji so many times and what he would eventually try to do with Ann, what he would do with Shiho.

“Hey, Takamaki, you need a ride?”

Akira instinctively reached out to grab Ann’s arm, to stop her from getting into Kamoshida’s car, but flinched back at the last second for fear of causing a scene and upsetting this timeline. Still, his fingers managed to brush Ann’s sleeve, causing her to give him a strange look before getting in the passenger seat. Akira could barely hear Kamoshida talking to him through the ringing in his ears, only shaking his head to imply a negative on instinct. He couldn’t look away from Ann in the passenger seat, still staring blankly at where she had been, her screams echoing distantly in his mind as guilt intertwined with his anger and threatened to choke him.

He couldn’t stop the memories of her horrified face as she watched her best friend fall from the room, her pained cries as Shiho was taken away in an ambulance, her dejected demeanor as she fell into the same trap, into Kamoshida’s clutches -

“Goddamnit, that  _ bastard _ !”

The familiar voice pulled him back to reality at almost breakneck speed, and he could feel the tension easily leaving his body as he turned to face the blond boy. Akira’s right hand man, just a little bit of a fool but with the biggest heart in the world. Sakamato Ryuji, who currently had no idea who Akira was.

If you asked, Akira would softly admit that the hostility and wariness on Ryuji’s face the first time the two met every timeline hurt him worse than any injury or any torture he had ever endured.

“What do you want!?”  _ Ah, and Ryuji had spotted him paying attention. _ “Planning on ratting me out to Kamoshida?”

Akira gives the appropriate bewildered look for someone who shouldn’t know who Kamoshida is, and has to hold back a laugh at Ryuji’s classic response as the hostility melted into confusion.

“You don’t know Kamoshida? Don’t ya go to Shujin?” Another confused look, an exhausted sigh in response. “You’re wearin’ the uniform for Shujin Academy. You new or somethin’?”

When Akira nodded in response, Ryuji’s face split into an easy grin, and suddenly everything felt right in the world. Akira suddenly felt like he could take on any enemy with one hand tied behind his back and emerge successful without ever taking a hit. Reality settled, and even though Akira knew he hadn’t yet truly established bonds with people yet, he was filled with a calm certainty that everything would work out in his favor. So long as Ryuji could still smile at him like that, everything would always be perfectly fine.

“The name’s Ryuji. That guy in the car’s Kamoshida. ‘Effin bastard. Walks all over the school like he owns the place. Who does he think he is, king of the castle?”

And there were the golden words. Akira winced as they entered the metaverse, though it was more out of sympathy for Ryuji’s apparent headache rather than any pain on his own part. He was so used to moving between reality and the cognitive world, both willingly and unwillingly, that it hardly phased him to the point he wouldn’t notice if he didn’t pay so much attention to his surroundings.

“Argh, my head. Damn, we should get to school or we’re going to be late.”

With a nod of his head to indicate Akira should follow him, Ryuji headed down a back alley, Akira easily following suit. He relished in that feeling of walking on air that mementos always seemed to exhibit, and felt himself almost... _ settle _ , for lack of a better word, in a cognitive reality that felt far more familiar than any other true reality. A reality where power laid at his fingertips with only the pull of a mask from his eyes, Arsene grinning wildly at his back.

“The hell? Since when was there a castle out here?”

_ And so, the story begins once more. _

Akira reaches Ryuji’s side quickly, pocketing his phone as he joins the other boy in staring up at the imposing castle, already knowing the horrors that lied within. He knew he was ready to face Kamoshida in all his bastardized glory, but knew he had to go at a regular pace the others could keep up with despite how badly he wanted to castrate the perverted man. Heaven knows he deserved it.

“Yo, maybe we took a wrong turn somewhere?”

“No, I don’t think we did.”  _ In fact, we’re right where we need to be. _

Akira’s voice was soft, never quite at full strength despite the ease with which he could use it within the metaverse. It didn’t matter much to him, however, simply content to at least not be hindered in terms of communication when it came to the more hairy situations that the Phantom Thieves liked to find themselves in.

“Holy  _ shit _ , you talk!?”

Ryuji had turned to Akira with an almost comical look of shock, and Akira couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped, amusement evident even with how much his glasses hid his face. Instead of gracing Ryuji with a verbal answer, he merely offered a shrug before gesturing inside the palace, indicating they should check it out.

Akira only gives a sharp smirk in response to Ryuji’s exasperated look, before nodding towards the castle once more and beginning to walk, Ryuji following quickly at his heels. The almost oppressive outward demeanor of the castle matched the regal entrance hall they found themselves in, decked out in bright reds and rich golds, the most obnoxiously gaudy interior decorating Akira believes he has ever seen.

There’s a moment when the castle isn’t a castle, and instead of a grand entry hall there is a school entrance, the administrator’s office just to the side and a school shop selling bread just around the corner. Akira can’t stop the instinctual wince at the rapid change in perception within the cognitive world, and feels Ryuji do a similar motion beside him.

  
A note of complaint and confusion sounds from Akira’s side, but he doesn’t quite hear it as his attention zeroes in on the guard - the  _ shadow _ \- approaching them. He feels his body begin to tense, prepared for a fight he knows he cannot win because Arsene hasn’t yet arrived to stand at his side, and so he braces himself for the blows he knows will come. And he ignores the guilt he feels at not being able to protect Ryuji from the same fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Thank you all so much for the positive feedback I've gotten over the past few chapters, I always love to hear what people think :)  
> Catch y'all in the next chapter, where an asshole in a speedo is going to make his first appearance and a cat aggressively says that it isn't a cat.


	6. Rebels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \----------
> 
> Everything is burning and I love it  
> Sit and watch the world until it's nothing  
> Scared of going out into the public  
> Yeah, we the kings now
> 
> \----------
> 
> Rebels, Call Me Karizma

Akira came to slowly, blinking as his eyes worked to focus on a grimy ceiling. After a moment of confusion, the past hour came rushing back to him, and he was on his feet without a thought, moving to stand by Ryuji at the mouth of the cell. He nudged Ruyji’s arm, looking to get his attention and expecting to maybe address the current situation.

What Akira wasn’t expecting, however, was for Ryuji to jump back with a loud curse.

“Holy  _ shit _ dude, warn a guy! How the hell’d you make no noise?”

Akira shrugged in response, giving a sheepish grin in way of an apology. He really hadn’t meant to sneak up on Ryuji, but decades of practice in being as silent as possible both in and out of the metaverse created habits that were hard to get rid of. Instead of trying to explain, he gestured towards the rest of the cell before pointing at the bars they were standing next to, trying to ask Ryuji for something of a status update.

“Really not much of a talker, yeah?” Another shrug. “Yeah, fair. They ‘effin locked us in, I’ve been trying to find a way out. You see anythin’?”

Ryuji’s hands are gripping at the bars now, knuckles white from the force of his grip, and Akira feels like he should be drifting back into the cell in an act of looking for a way out, but he can’t pull himself away. He’s never been one to ignore the stress or negative emotions of his friends, whether they’ve grown close in the timeline or not.

Without a thought, Akira reaches forward, fingers about to rest over Ryuji’s, when his attention is drawn by distant movement. The noise of metal plates of armor hitting and grating against each other has him instinctively pulling back, shifting towards the back of the cell into a more defendable position.

Ryuji doesn’t have time to react before the same guards that had knocked them out are at the cell door, barging in and pushing him back. Akira finds himself being shoved against the wall, and feels a near blind fury rise in his chest as the familiar figure of Shadow Kamoshida struts into the cell, immediately looking down upon the two teens.

_ And god, he was still wearing that hideous fucking speedo. _

Akira couldn’t hear whatever Kamoshida was saying over the roar of rushing blood in his ears. He barely registered weapons pressing into his chest, against his throat, all he could think about was -

_ \- Kamoshida’s grin as he looked down on a struggling Ryuji, beckoning for one of the guards to come forward and bring his sword down - _

_ \- Shadow Ann clinging to Shadow Kamoshida’s side, a disgusting perversion of the strong woman he knew the possibility of it becoming anything like a reality making him sick to his stomach - _

\- “Get off me, you-”

Yelling and a stifled cry are what drag Akira out of his memories and back to the present, where his muscles are tensed, ready for a fight, breathing picking up. When he focuses, he can see Ryuji sprawled out on the floor, curled in after having just been kicked in the stomach. Kamoshida is boasting, gloating over what he’s done to Ryuji. Akira strains against the guards holding him back, not caring as weapons dig into his skin, seeing Kamoshida’s mouth moving but not hearing words.

Kamoshida points, a guard moves forward with a raised sword, and Akira feels his rage and anger  _ flare _ .

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_ “So, we return once more. Will you simply watch this time around? Or will you take my power once more and fight against the injustices of the world?” _ Akira feels a grin begin to tug at his lips at the familiar blue warmth.  _ “Will you forsake your friend to save yourself? You know his fate if you do nothing. Was your decision to protect that woman a mistake?” _

_ It never was. That bastard deserved it every time. _

_ “Very well… I have heeded your resolve.” _

And despite the fire that began to burn, destroying and igniting every nerve ending in Akira’s body, he couldn’t help but smile, welcoming Arsene back once more like an old friend.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“Execute him!”

Kamosida’s voice is, as always, grating to Akira’s ears, but he’s done taking a backseat and listening to him spout further bullshit, and so Akira spoke.

“I will  **stop** you.”

His voice may have been soft, but it carried a weight of untold power backed by Arsene, and he reveled in how Kamoshida stepped back in fear.

“What was that? You desire to be killed before Sakamato so much? Fine!”

A fist slams into Akira’s face, and he stumbles to the side, glasses clattering to the floor, likely broken beyond repair. However, it didn’t much matter as Akira felt the fire in him  _ burst _ outwards, knocking the nearby guards back and leaving a familiar mask in its wake.

His nerves were alight with the flames surrounding him, and he would scream if the burning wasn’t so familiar it was comforting. The flames embraced him like a hug, and he couldn’t help but wonder how he had ever felt cold in his life with how fiercely the flames of rebellion burned. He let them warm him to the tips of his fingers, basking in the blazing heat before finally levelling a glare upon Shadow Kamoshida.

Akira reaches up, grips the mask, and lets his vision fill will blood and blue flames, feeling himself shed the distortions of the palace as a familiar coat settled into place with the rest of his Phantom Thief outfit. Heavy chains settled into his free hand, and he gripped them tightly before ripping at them as harshly as he could manage, breaking them and relishing in the power and strength that coursed through his veins.

_ “I am the pillager of twilight -  _ **_Arsene_ ** _! I am the rebel’s soul that resides within you. If you so desire, I shall consider granting you the power to break through this crisis.” _

“One last time, old friend,  _ give me your power! _ ”

_ “Very well…”  _ The power settled, and Akira felt himself come to life, finally settling into the role of Phantom Thief that would always define him.  _ “Detest the enemies before you! Change that animosity into power… and unleash it! This power of mine is yours! Kill them however you want. Run wild to your heart’s content!” _

A grin stretched across his face, Akira surged forward, blue flames licking at his arms and heels, knocking back all the guards as he drew a hand back and slammed it into Shadow Kamoshida’s face. There was a satisfying moment as he felt the cartilage of his nose give way under his fist, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as he rushed to help Ryuji up and out of the cell, locking it behind them and throwing the keys into the river.

‘What the eff was that!? What did you do!?”

Ryuji was panting alongside him, giving a bewildered look in response to the grin practically splitting Akira’s face in half.

“I’ll explain later. Let’s go!”

And before Ryuji could stammer out a response, Akira had grabbed his wrist and begun moving, dragging him to their eventual freedom from the palace.

And if he was leading them a direction that would inevitably take them by a certain “human”, well. No one would end up knowing.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, blond hair! Frizzy boy! Over here!”

_ Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, apologies for the wait. Things are getting more chaotic as school is about to start back up.  
> Update schedule is going to change to every other weekend, and I'll do everything in my power to hold to that.
> 
> Coming next chapter:  
> Sojiro is Displeased (TM), and Igor continues to install software on people's personal cellular devices without their permission.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!  
> Hope y'all enjoyed this little prologue, I'm really hoping to get this moving and off the ground soon and eventually move into semi-regular updates.  
> This is a fun little project of mine I've been planning for months, and I'm excited to see it through!
> 
> There is also a playlist for this fic! Here's the link if any of you happen to be interested in checking it out :)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/19WewGXd5Z8ARSjhnatbgH?si=zGiV3-UFSl6hPvU4Wo6EaA


End file.
